


Reach forth, reach backwards

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Shambali (Overwatch)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: For Zenyatta Appreciation Week - day 5/7 (Home is where the heart is) (greetings/goodbyes)One year and one day after Mondatta's death, the Shambali come to see Zenyatta.





	Reach forth, reach backwards

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit late, but it still counts.

**Reach forth, reach backwards**

 

“I am not Mondatta.”

The words are out of his synth without his consent, but as he stares at the two omnics in front of him, their forehead arrays flaring brightly, it is the only thing in his mind. The only thing he can say.

It is… ridiculous.

That they are here, guests of OverWatch reformed, when the world itself does not even know about OverWatch having regrouped together, is shock enough. That they have come here, in spite of everything, asking to see Zenyatta, refusing to speak if not with him, is even more so.

What Sister Yue said, to him as he stepped into the room, is the worst offender of all.

“We know,” Yue murmurs, and there is a tinge of… something in her tone, which Zenyatta cannot decipher. “We know that rather well.”

It is not worded as an insult, or an accusation, but Zenyatta’s shoulders flinch nonetheless, and he inches backwards, though he cannot run, not from them, not now.

The room feels constrictive around him, but he does not move, frozen on the spot.

“I will never be… Mondatta,” he murmurs, and this time, his synth cracks, splinters, and it is unfair how easily his name can make all the emotions Zenyatta keeps tightly wrapped within himself spill out for the world to see.

A year and a day since his death, six months after he accepted to follow Genji to OverWatch reformed, to give his aid to them, and now the Shambali appear in front of him, and demand… demand…

Ask.

“That much is obvious.” Yue’s voice is soft, not curt as he expects it to be. He does not understand her, he never has.

She is a model of the same age as he is, less weathered, polished and cared for, lithe for she had been a ballerina, before joining the order. She’d left that life behind, scorned by one too many agent due to her being an omnic. She had found her own vocation with the Shambali, months after Zenyatta himself had joined.

Her five-point forehead array flares blue.

“Then, it should be obvious that I can’t… that you…” his synth falters, and he feels a wave of shame, for allowing his demeanour to be so cracked by their mere presence here. He straightens his back, and collects himself. “I cannot take that mantle upon my shoulders. I have left the monastery for a reason, because I am not Mondatta, and his path… his path is not _mine_.”

“We _never_ expected you to be him.” Nara speaks up next, startling Zenyatta out of the depth of his thoughts. “Not even Mondatta did, nor do we expect you to be him now. That would go against everything we stand for.”

Nara is an older model, younger than Mondatta had been, but older than both Yue and Zenyatta. He has a seven-point array, orange in colour, but one of them does not light up properly, and never has, since before he joined the Shambali. He is curt, and rough, and sometimes too harsh in his wording, though he never means it, but he’s always been gruff, unable to properly convey by his voice alone the emotions that ring true within his soul.

“Then I do not see why you would come here to see me now, if we all agree I do not belong.” Again, Zenyatta does not consider the weight of his own words, startled by their presence after his return from a long mission, but he thought…

He thought himself settled. He thought he would be able to meet the Shambali in a neutral situation at some point in his future, not now, so soon after Mondatta’s death. He did not wish to face them yet, to feel their grief on his circuits, their judging stares, to have them see how much guilt he feels for not been there for Mondatta on that day.

If he had, maybe Mondatta would not have died. Maybe he could have…

Something in his aura, or his posture, or his words, or all of it combined, strike a chord.

Nara and Yue pause, both of them visibly startled, and they exchange a glance, forehead arrays dimmer for a moment, a flicker of understanding flaring between them. “Zenyatta, is that what you truly believe…?”

He looks up at them, stare even despite the tension in his own servos. “I have left the Shambali to pursue my own path. It seems obvious, even more so now, after Mondatta’s passing… that my presence would not be welcome back at the monastery. Your request… why would you come to me? It is true I was Mondatta’s pupil, but that ceased the moment I left. What brought you here, then? Is the situation so dire you are willing to reconsider?”

“Zenyatta,” Yue’s tone softens, gentle, musical. Familiar, in an achingly, bittersweet way. “When you left, there was no one more hurt than Mondatta, but–”

“I left with his full agreement.” Zenyatta is tense, cornered, and his lack of understanding, why would they be here, are they accusing him? He does not– “He understood my need to leave.”

“–but he missed you, every single day. He spoke about you so often, melancholic, and grieving,” Yue continues, and it is unfair how soft she sounds, when every word is like a stab in Zenyatta’s soul. “Zenyatta, please, do not misunderstand me. Your absence hurt Mondatta greatly, but he was… happy you were gone. He did not wish to chain you down, and for a long time he believed, wrongly, that we would not understand. We did. We all knew why you left, why it was a gesture of love and respect, not one of abandonment. We had no idea you would believe the same as he did.”

 She seems surprised, a hint of worry in her synth, and Zenyatta finds himself shaking his head. “I–”

Yue straightens her back, posture one that requires silence, and Zenyatta falters. “We never meant for you to feel shunned by the rest of us, Zenyatta. We thought it best to let you go, because we were also saddened by your departure –you were very dear to us. You have always been… but we understood.” There is a melancholic tilt to her words, soft and almost bittersweet, tinged with memories from their shared past, days spent as students of the Shambali together, as friends.

“Mondatta’s path was not your own. Leaving was no mistake, but that does not mean you had to sever yourself from us so completely. It hurt us all, Mondatta first, but we were not blind.” Nara speaks up again. He scoffs, but without any anger. “We are not here to make you renounce to that, Zenyatta. We never wanted another Mondatta, and certainly not you to be one.”

Yue picks up again, hands tight around one another. “If you were afraid to follow on Mondatta’s footsteps –if you found yourself not ready for that, to be a leader, our leader… that is because you continued to compare yourself to Mondatta, isn’t it? Thinking that to follow after him would mean retrace his footsteps and negate your own calling. And after he died… Zenyatta, were you afraid we would chase you out, as well? When all we wanted was for you to return and grieve with us?”

Nara makes a soft, crackling sound deep in his synth, and speaks up, his tone curt, sharp. “Did you think, all these years, that we resented you for leaving?”

Zenyatta feels his synth click and snap. “Why would you not?” he asks, and it is unfair how even his tone is, despite the emotions that hide within his core. “I left when you… and Mondatta needed me, for a selfish desire to find my own path, and because I do not–” he falters, but the conviction in his tone does not diminish “–I do not regret doing so. But I left you, and when Mondatta, died… I…”

“Oh, Zenyatta, my dear–” Yue still has both hands hidden from view by the table, but Zenyatta can picture them clenched tightly together. “Never. Not even for a single moment, did we ever think you’d abandoned us. Even if Mondatta had not attempted, in his own way, to remind us of this every day, we would have known this regardless. You never left us behind. You simply parted ways to find yourself. You moved on to learn, to grow. Mondatta had his own role, Iris willing it… and you had yours. It was never the same, and we never expected… we never _wanted_ you to be another Mondatta.”

“But you are here to…”

“We are here to ask you to return to the Shambali, yes,” Yue nods, humming, “To fill the empty spot Mondatta left behind after his death, but… we do not ask you to _become_ Mondatta.”

Zenyatta falters, his brain feels like it is slipping. He grips the edge of the table, tightly.

“Mondatta was Mondatta –his path was his own, and we followed him and we believed him. It was the right path to take. That path has ended with his death.” Nara speaks up again, his tone contrasting again with Yue’s one. “We need a different path now. Things have evolved, and changed. Mondatta died to give us the start –we ask you to bring us further. Give us your path to follow. It is no more the time to stand quietly back. We grieved –we all did. We grieved for a year, waiting. We thought you would come back for the funeral, then when the year ended, we thought you would… but you did not. Zenyatta… _brother_ …” Nara leans forwards, extends one arm towards Zenyatta, suddenly frantic. “All this time… did you allow yourself to properly grieve?”

Zenyatta feels like he’s drowning.

He has come back from a long term mission –five days, on barely any rest, he missed two sleep cycles, and his battery is already down– only to find the Shambali sent an emissary to OverWatch, and expecting the conversation to go… somewhere different.

He is slipping, and his hands are clenching so hard on the table he feels the metal of his fingers creak.

Yes, he wants to say –he grieved hard, and painfully, he screamed and felt like all his soul was gone. The Discord welling within him had almost destroyed him, and he had been alone, and if not for Genji, he would not have survived.

He grieves every day, until the motions are part of him, until every movement brings him further along on his life, and away from the day Mondatta died, the day Zenyatta’s own life changed drastically.

He does not think he’s grieved enough. He doesn’t think he ever will. For Mondatta, for the Shambali he feels he’d deserted, never returning there so not to face his own mistakes, so he would not look into their disappointed faces, avoiding the truth and telling himself he would, one day, but not today, not today…

And that today creeped up on him, just like that, and that today happened and it’s not…

And they are here to tell him that he was wrong, and they never… they never…

“We never resented you, Zenyatta. But now I see that even our silence… our desire to let you grieve, have your space… we did wrong. We did not reach out, as we grieved on our own, and we were the ones who deserted you when you needed us the most.”

Yue stands up, and Nara follows her, slowly stepping around the table, intending to come to Zenyatta’s side but he does not think he could stand that, accept what they’re offering, the fact that they were never disappointed, never resentful, and his hands shake where they’re clutching at the table. He can’t believe them, he can’t, not when he spent so long thinking he would be hated, when he avoided seeing them for fear of rejection, of facing the one mistake he never felt guilty for making, and… and…

“… Master!”

Genji slams the door open, harried and rushed, panting hard enough Zenyatta’s auricular receptors hear him over the confusing sound of his own fans.

Genji falters and stops, hand gripping the edge of the door tightly, as he stares in shock at the two omnics standing, at Zenyatta’s shaking shoulders; Zenyatta wonders if Genji will misunderstand the situation.

“Genji,” Yue turns to look at him. “It has been so long. You look rather well.”

“I… ah… Master Zenyatta–” Genji steps towards them, protectively, shoulders hunched up, his voice worried, but there is underlying tension in his aura, so visible to Zenyatta that he finds himself calming down, if only to calm _Genji_ down.

“It is quite… alright, Genji,” and his voice is calm, unwavering despite his inner chaos, and he tilts his head to look at him.

Genji is at his side in a second, one hand pressed on Zenyatta’s shoulder, meant to steady him against what he perceives as a threat. “Why are you here?” he asks, facing Yue and Nara, and while his tone is not resentful, not steely, his welcoming voice sounds wary, and tense.

“We were here to discuss a few matters with Zenyatta,” Yue says, and steps back from Zenyatta, understanding Genji’s presence for what it is. “Unfortunately this… exposed a few misunderstandings, and a mistake done on our part, one for which we would gladly take steps into rectifying, if Zenyatta allows us.”

Genji falters, the grip on Zenyatta’s shoulder tightening for a second.

“I wish to thank you, Genji,” Yue speaks up again, familiar with him the same way she had been with Zenyatta. Yue always cared, for every single lost soul that the monastery welcomed. “For being by Zenyatta’s side, all this time. We did a disservice to him, to you, in not reaching out. We are sorry. We are here now.”

Nara looks between Genji and Zenyatta, then sighs. “We need to return to the rest of our group–” at Zenyatta’s startled motion, he snorts. “Many wished to come, yes. The others are waiting in a small hostel, as we did not want to appear here in great numbers, but they all wanted to see you. If you wish, consider joining us tomorrow, and maybe we can resume this conversation after you have had some time to yourself.”

Zenyatta finds himself nodding, not in agreement, but in acceptance.

“You did not say why you are here,” Genji says, not accusing but almost, and Yue is the one who snorts, now.

“That is part of the conversation you have missed before your arrival. I am sure brother Zenyatta would fill you in after our departure,” and Zenyatta wants to say yes, but also no, because what the Shambali –what Yue and Nara are asking is too much for him to bear alone, but at the same time he does not wish to burden Genji, not with this, not when– “but there is nothing we wish to hide. We are here for a proposition. We wish for Zenyatta to take his place among our ranks again as our leader.”

She delivers the blow evenly, as if it is not as much of a shock for Zenyatta to hear this now as it was the first time, and it is the same for Genji, by the way his hand clenches on Zenyatta’s shoulder.

“You wish… for Master Zenyatta to come back?”

“We wish for his guidance,” Yue corrects him. “We do not require him to come back at all, not unless he wants to, and even then, we do not want to take him away from the duties he is serving to your organization.”

That is… a surprising development, but it is unexpected enough that it snaps Zenyatta’s attention back to Yue.

“As I said, your path will take you where it should –and the Iris has never abandoned you, has it?”

“No.” Zenyatta’s tone is forceful in answering, for the Iris being with him, during his travels, during his time with OverWatch, has been reassurance enough that his decision was one he needed to make. “The Iris is with me, always.”

Yue nods, like she’s confirming her own words. “That is why we want you to consider it. The Shambali need a strong hand, one willing to compromise and lead, but it is no more Mondatta’s time. We grieved for him, a year and a day–” Yue places one hand on her core, uncovered as it is the Shambali’s way “–and now we are here. If we had known before, we would have come much earlier to reassure you, and even now, we are not asking for an immediate answer, but… now, we ask of you this –to consider it. To think about it. To accept that we are in need of someone to take up the mantle Mondatta left behind, and lead the Shambali. We ask you, Tekhartha Zenyatta, to be that omnic.”

Their departure is done in silence, and Zenyatta is barely aware of it, thoughts a swirling turmoil, but Genji’s presence is steady and grounding at his side, and he allows him to guide him through the corridors and into their shared room.

“Master…”

“I do not think I will be able to meditate at the present time, Genji,” he interrupts him, “but I would greatly appreciate your company now, regardless.”

Genji sighs –not exasperated, but fond, and worried, and they sit side by side on the bed, shoulders touching. “As if I could ever refuse you anything, master,” he murmurs, one arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“And for that, I thank you.”

They do not speak further, and Zenyatta stares, unseeingly, at the wall in front of him, for what feels like hours, puzzling, worrying, wondering.

He has no answer to this, none at all.

How could he, of all omnics, of all people, take Mondatta’s place?

Zenyatta understands the minute ways it would work, for people outside of the Shambali –he is not famous, but his name is easily linked to Mondatta, and the Shambali would provide proof of their closeness.

To the world, the connection would be enough.

To Zenyatta, though… to the Shambali…?

He left because he knew he would never become as good as Mondatta had been, because he could not look at himself and see a leader, not the way Mondatta had been, but even this thought is faulty, because of all people, Zenyatta knows that Mondatta had not wanted to be this, either.

Once upon a time, years before, Mondatta had simply wished to work for the betterment of omnics in the world.

What happened to him was simply a pebble rolling down a hill, catching debris to turn into an avalanche.

Zenyatta does not feel ready, just as Mondatta had not –but the difference is that Mondatta, in the end, had managed to become a leader the world remembered.

“You are thinking a lot, master,” Genji murmurs, and the arm around his shoulders tightens. “What is it that ails you so? Please lean on me, master, just like I leaned on you for years.”

“Silly student of mine, trying to use my own lines against me,” Zenyatta murmurs, softly and with fondness, and he leans into the touch until he can bump the side of his head against Genji’s chin.

“Is it working?” cheeky, soft, Genji uses his free hand to remove the visor from his face, then the rest of his helmet. Zenyatta does not look up, but feels the gentle press of a pair of chapped lips against the side of his head.

“… perhaps,” he acknowledges, his laughter a quiet and tired sound. “I do not wish to burden you with my thoughts, but I am afraid you will not allow me _not_ to.”

“Yeah, that won’t work with me. If you’re hurting, my soul won’t rest at ease. I heard from Lena that the Shambali were here and I just had to…” Genji presses his face, awkwardly, against Zenyatta’s head, nuzzles it.

“You looked like you were going to break down the door, yes, in your haste to get to me. My knight, are you not?”

“Master…” Genji is whining, embarrassed, but his aura is burning with affection and pleasure, and Zenyatta smiles through his forehead array. “You know I would take down mountains for you.”

“You would,” he agrees. “And you would follow me to the end of the world, if I chose to go.”

A small silence, then “and back to Nepal as well, master.”

This startles Zenyatta enough that he shuffles to look at Genji, who appears unrepentant, lips pursed. “Genji…”

“I would follow you there, and they said… they said you wouldn’t have to stay. You belong in OverWatch, but it would be too greedy to keep you chained here when the rest of the world also needs you, and this…”

Zenyatta makes a soft, wondering sound. “You think I should accept.”

“I… yes. I do.” Genji sounds secure of himself, and when the presses their foreheads together, one of his thumbs caressing the underside of Zenyatta’s chin. “Even if this was not about leadership, but simply an invitation to go back to Nepal, I would still say the same. I know how much you’ve longed to see the monastery again, yet you refrained. I know how much it hurts, but they are here and they said…” Genji fumbles with his words, to get Zenyatta to understand, and Zenyatta gently holds Genji’s face in his hands, and hums deep in his synth.

“I understand, Genji. I heard their words.” Yet… yet…

“Forgive my impertinence,” Genji murmurs, and his hold tightens around Zenyatta, as if Zenyatta would ever hold anything against him, as if they are not already equals, despite how formally Genji still refers to him, as if Genji does not own Zenyatta’s soul so completely, after the years they spent side by side, and then together. “But I have been with you so long, and I’ve always watched you. After we left the Shambali, I know you regretted your choice. I know you believed they would not wish to see you anymore, even if I never agreed. I know Mondatta’s death rattled you–” Genji swallows, his mouth dry, for Zenyatta’s pain is also his own, and Genji had cared for Mondatta as well, though not for as long as Zenyatta had “–and I was here with you, afterwards. This feels like a chance to help your soul finally settle, master, and… maybe… maybe you don’t have to _accept_ yet, but… they are here. Maybe tomorrow, we should take their invitation and… see the other Shambali monks.”

“Is that a suggestion, Genji, or will I find myself carried over to the city tomorrow?”

“Hmmm…” Genji’s thumb continues to run soothing circles around one of Zenyatta’s sensors, and he leans into the touch, just barely. “I think you don’t even have to decide that, now. You just returned from a mission, and I have been waiting for you, and no one will fault you if you just… rested, now.”

Zenyatta sighs, but does not protest as Genji gently rearranges them both on the bed, until they are laying down, facing each other. Genji’s arms wrap around his shoulders, and Zenyatta presses his forehead against Genji’s chest, right where his heart is.

The soft rhythmic sound of it is soothing.

“I have missed you as well, Genji,” he murmurs.

He is… tired. All he’d wanted was to see Genji again after his mission, meditate and rest, but he finds all his energy gone, and he is lethargic now, though there is a tension buzzing inside his circuits as his brain returns, over and over, to the words spoken by Yue and Nara.

The Shambali welcoming him back, not faulting him for abandoning them, nor for not coming back after Mondatta…

Genji’s hold around his shoulders tightens, tugging Zenyatta’s mind away from the spiral of thoughts.

“I mean it,” he murmurs near his auricular sensors. “It is alright to rest. I will not move. I will stay right here with you, and hold you, and when you wake again, I will still be there.”

Turmoil in his soul, but soothed by Genji’s concern, by his love, Zenyatta shuts down his optical receptors and sighs, synth crackling with fatigue.

The last thought he has before he powers down, tired but cozy, is a memory of Mondatta standing in front of the monastery stairs, among stone older than him, older than Zenyatta. He is tall and proud, his hands wrapped behind his back, and his forehead array bright in the morning light as Zenyatta leaves, Genji at his side.

It is the last he’s seen of him, except on their rare videocalls.

When Zenyatta left the monastery, behind him Mondatta lifted one hand in a parting gesture, one that Zenyatta returned, but as Zenyatta falls into a deep, dreamless sleep, it appears to him as if Mondatta is instead greeting him, arms open to welcome him back.

 

 


End file.
